


Five Times Everything Slowed Painfully Down, and One Time it Didn't

by Carlet



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era, Academy to Tahiti, F/M, Fluff, Philinda - Freeform, mentions of Andrew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 17:29:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14958962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carlet/pseuds/Carlet
Summary: Five times everything passed by much too slowly, and one time it didn't.





	Five Times Everything Slowed Painfully Down, and One Time it Didn't

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution to Week 2 of the Tumblr Philinda Summer Challenge for the prompt "Time."

**One**

Melinda May hated a lot of things (coffee, for one), but waiting had to be in the top ten. Especially crammed into the cargo hold of a plane with barely enough room to breathe, let alone stretch her cramped legs.

 

“Remind me again why I volunteered for this.” She hissed, quiet enough so the soldiers pacing overhead wouldn’t be able to hear them, but loud enough so her partner (the only reason why she hadn’t decided to single-handedly take over or blow up the plane) would.

 

“Because it was either this or go undercover at that dance academy.” Came the instant reply.

 

“Ah, right.” May grumbled. “Although now I’m starting to regret my choice.”

 

There was no response next to her, but even despite the pitch darkness, she didn’t need one.

 

“Stop smiling.”

 

“I’m not.” Phil’s disembodied voice said.

 

“I know you are. This isn’t funny.”

 

“It kind of is. You’re the only person I know who’d prefer _this_ over going undercover.”

 

“And dancing.”

 

“Of course. How could I forget?”

 

“Stop talking. We’re supposed to stay quiet.”

 

“But I’m bored.”

 

“No whining either.” May shifted, trying to configure herself into a slightly more comfortable position. But the crates digging into her back left no room, and she gave up. She closed her eyes, not that she really needed to given the complete lack of light, and breathed deeply through her nose and out through her mouth. She tried to trigger the calm that usually washed over her while doing tai chi. She pictured herself leaping up, taking down two, three, four soldiers with her at once, before grabbing the plane’s controls for herself.

 

Anything to keep from remembering that she was stuck in this damn cargo hold for 18 more hours.

 

Voices came from overhead, shouting about something May couldn’t make out. She would probably never be fluent in Russian, although she could usually pick out a few words, yet the rumble of the plane was making it hard. Suddenly, there was a boom, maybe the sound of something falling, followed by loud yelling.

 

“What do you think they’re doing?” Phil whispered.

 

“No idea. But it doesn’t matter. We have our orders.” _Stupid orders,_ May added silently. Hiding and gathering intel at wherever in the hell the plane full of Russian spies was supposed to land wasn’t really her thing—she’d much rather prefer action, kicking and punching and hitting instead of sitting quietly and waiting.

 

_Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty. One, two, three…_

By her count, only two out of those eighteen hours had passed.

 

“This is ridiculous.” May muttered. “Such a waste of time.”

 

“Did you have better plans or something? Another date with…what’s his name?”

 

“Andrew.” Melinda supplied, and despite her extreme (even for her) grouchiness, a small smile began to spread at the sound of his name. This was new. Out of all the dates she’d been on (so many she’d lost track ages ago), she’d willingly given him her real number. While he didn’t cause the fluttery, warm feeling in her stomach she’d been expecting, he wasn’t totally repulsive. She could see herself going out with him maybe one more time.

 

“And yeah, I did.” She said. “Although I had to cancel, clearly.”

 

“You didn’t have to. This was a pure voluntary mission.”

 

“And leave you here all alone?” May teased. “Please. You never would’ve made it onto the plane.”

 

What she didn’t bother to mention was that although Phil was no specialist and usually needed to rely on words instead of his fists, he was more than capable of handling himself. Especially since this mostly consisted of sitting and listening quietly.

 

But the thought of him going out on a mission with someone other than her was so unappealing, she’d immediately called Andrew to cancel his offer of taking her out to a concert in the park and signed up for this ridiculously irritating mission.

 

 As Phil began blabbering on about completing his set of vintage Captain America trading cards, May could feel herself start to relax. She stopped counting seconds and instead settled into her spot.

 

If there was anyone she had to be stuck with, waiting for time to slowly trickle by like molasses, she was glad it was him.

 

* * *

  **Two**

 

Melinda could hear the words Fury was saying. They were perfectly enunciated and clear, and her ears picked up every single one.

 

_Coulson…Tahiti…alive._

She just couldn’t comprehend any of them.

 

“…and I must stress this must be kept a secret from him, Agent May. I trust you will exercise the utmost discretion when it comes to the Tahiti project.

 

She watched him as he spoke. His lips moved to form words, words may as well have been in Arabic.

 

“Coulson must never know the truth…”

 

 _One, two, three…_ The seconds ticked by as May watched Fury speak. He’d called her into his office rather abruptly on a nondescript day; there had been no infiltrations, no large scale attacks, nothing. Ever since Loki, the Battle of New York and most importantly of all, Phil’s death, everything had remained the same. It was so unfair. She should’ve been there. She should’ve taken his place. But instead, the only person left who could possibly make that huge, gaping black hole in her soul feel just a little less overwhelming was gone.

 

Except apparently that had been a lie all along.

 

_Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty._

 

Time seemed to seep slowly by, reminding her of the slow, lazy way maple syrup tended to spread across a plate. When would he be done speaking? When would this long speech end? What more did she need to know other than the fact that Phil was alive? When would he finally let her leave and find her best friend, to see him for herself? Physical contact was not something she’d be comfortable with ever again (she would never stop seeing Katya’s outstretched hand in the back of her mind), but simply having evidence that Phil Coulson was actually alive would be enough.

 

She took a deep breath, watching Fury speak, keeping a neutral and even expression on her face. He continued to yammer on, oblivious to her pain, to the way every cell in her body fought against the primal instinct to get up, to run as fast as she could, to find Phil. With every breath and every second that ticked by her skin tingled, itched to get up and do _something._

 

Fury cleared his throat. He stared at her expectantly. It took Melinda a full five seconds to realize he was waiting for a response.

 

Having not really heard most of his speech, Melinda chose to nod gravely. “I…understand, sir.”

 

That was apparently enough for Fury, for he gestured towards the door. She stood up so fast she knocked the chair over. Somewhere within her whirling thoughts, it occurred to her she’d probably been very rude.

 

But she didn’t give a damn.

 

* * *

 

**Three**

 

“Stop it.” But her words lacked their usual authority, instead sounding weak and feeble.

 

“If I don’t put pressure, you’ll bleed out.”

 

“I’m fine.” Melinda insisted. She tried to wriggle out of Phil’s grasp, but he held her tight. Normally she would’ve fought harder, _could’ve_ fought harder because despite the height and physical size he had on her, she was much stronger and knew it. But right now, when it took tremendous effort to speak and breathe and even blink, she stayed put.

 

Like most missions, this one was meant to go smoothly. In and out. The plan had been simple. While May distracted the guards, Phil was supposed to go in and free their hostage, a former SHIELD scientist who’d retired, only to end up kidnapped by rogue Hydra agents.

 

That’s where everything had gone wrong.

 

The kidnapping had only been a ruse, for it turned out the scientist was actually working _willingly_ for Hydra, who’d been Hydra all along, and faked his own kidnapping to lure in any SHIELD agents who may have wanted to rescue him. He’d sent out a coded message, intercepted by Daisy, who’d alerted May and Coulson. And so they’d found no less than 15 Hydra guards waiting for them in the warehouse when they’d arrived.

 

Overkill? Yes. Too much to handle? Probably not. But outnumbered? Most definitely.

 

“I know we’re _SHIELD_ agents,” Phil said as he roughly tore off his jacket, balled it up, and pressed it against her shoulder. “But that doesn’t mean you literally need to be a human shield.” He tightened his grip around her waist, supporting her as they made through the warehouse. The exits had been blocked off, and although the Hydra agents had scattered at the sound of the Quinjet arriving as backup, he knew they wouldn’t be safe out in the open.

 

If she could, Melinda would’ve rolled her eyes. Instead, she settled on shooting him a glare. It was probably more akin to a weary glance at this point. “He would’ve shot you.”

 

“And you thought this was a better idea?”

 

“HEY!” A loud shout from behind them alerted Phil to the fact that a couple Hydra guards had found them. Bullets started to rain down around them. Using his right hand, Phil swung his arm up, his ICER ready, all the while keeping his left hand clamped down tightly on Melinda’s shoulder. But she beat him to it.

 

In a surprisingly fluid movement, Melinda spun around and aimed with the gun she’d stolen from a particularly nasty and burly agent, presumably their leader, the one who’d aimed for Phil but ended up with an angry specialist in his face. He’d gone down pretty quickly, but not before taking May down with him.

 

The guards collapsed, and Melinda smiled grimly with satisfaction. But that had apparently aggravated her shoulder; as a second later she swayed in place, and would’ve fallen forward had Phil not reached out and caught her.

 

“Come on. We need to find a place to hide.”

 

“No. We need to get out there.” But her argument lacked its usual authority.

 

“Melinda. You can barely stand.” Without waiting for a response, he all but dragged her behind a stack of crates. She sank down almost immediately, hissing loudly as her shoulder came into contact with the wall. He crouched down with her, covering her as best he could. Blood seeped through his jacket, rapidly darkening the gray fabric, and Phil swore loudly as he pressed down even harder. “Where the _hell_ are you?” He shouted into his comms.

 

As soon as he’d heard her cry of pain as she’d brought down the soldiers’ leader, Phil had called for backup. The Quinjet hadn’t been far behind when he and May had parachuted down. But apparently they should’ve planned further ahead. Through her comms, May could hear shouts, a combination of Daisy, Simmons, and Mack as they fought their way through _more_ agents.

 

“Sorry boss.” Mack panted. “We’re getting a bit sidetracked here.”

 

“…trying our best.” Daisy responded, grunting with exertion.

 

“Well, hurry up!” He looked back down at May, whose stared back at him, her eyes glazed over. “No.” Phil said roughly, shaking her lightly. “Come on, May. I need you to stay awake. They’ll be here any second now. Simmons will patch you right up, and you’ll be back to terrorizing the hell out of your strike team.”

 

_Any second now._

 

_One, two, three…_

He should’ve seen it coming. He was their leader, the one who planned most of their missions. Since when would it have been a good idea to send a two person extraction team when it came to anything Hydra? Sure, they’d been duped. Maybe he’d grown excited at the thought of going on a mission with Melinda. It had been way too long, and he’d thought he could handle it. But he should’ve sent Daisy or Mack or Bobbi with her. Anybody but him.

 

“Stop it.”

 

He looked down at her. “What?”

 

“Blaming yourself.” Melinda muttered. “This is what, the 65thtime I’ve been shot at? I’ll be fine.”

 

But her face had grown alarmingly pale, her lips practically blue. It wasn’t particularly cold, and he could feel himself sweating from the lack of air in the room. Despite that, she was shivering.

 

He listened to the chaos outside, to the shouts as Daisy quaked the hell out of the soldiers, to the fire from the machine guns the Hydra agents had somehow obtained. Yet inside the warehouse, it was strangely quiet. He could hear his heartbeat throbbing in his ears with every passing second.

 

Every passing second that blood seeped out of the wound beneath his fingers. The relatively non-threatening wound that could easily turn fatal.

 

“Almost there!” Simmons shouted through the comms.

 

“Did you hear that?” Phil said desperately. “They’re almost here.”

 

_Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty._

How much time had passed? Ten minutes? Thirty? As he alternately kept watch and blabbed on about horror movies, old practical jokes, and any and everything under the sun, anything to keep her distracted and awake and talking, time seemed to stop. All that mattered was right here, right now, and keeping her alive.

 

Ironically, this was the most time he’d spent with Melinda in a long time. If he closed his eyes (and he wouldn’t dare do that because who knew if she’d still be here when he opened them again), he could picture the way they used to spend afternoons in his office. He’d be answering emails or doing some other tedious task, while she filled out Daisy’s paperwork because she couldn’t be bothered to do it correctly. Occasionally he’d look over at her, seated on the couch in his office deep in concentration, and just smile. But then things had gone to hell, first with the Inhuman outbreak and then Hive, and they’d just stopped.

 

Sometimes time moved too rapidly, such as after a long mission when he had only a few hours to sleep and prepare for the next one. But other times, time moved slowly, languidly, lazily; the seconds just seemed to tick by at half time, unaware of the havoc they could wreak. That was perfect during, say, an afternoon spent reading outside as he’d done at the Academy.

 

But not right now. Time could not come to a screeching halt right now. Not when he needed to get her out of here and to the Quinjet and to Simmons and away from this day that had started off normally enough but gone to hell.

 

(Time eventually did speed up, at least a little. Daisy and Simmons burst their way in, the former bearing bruises that wouldn’t heal for a while. The four of them headed towards the Quinjet, Phil and Daisy providing cover. Melinda’s shoulder healed, and she continued to train her team. But he couldn’t get out of his mind what would’ve happened had time refused to pick up its pace and continue its steady ticking forward).

* * *

 

**Four**

 

_Gasp!_

The second Phil opened his eyes, the disorientation hit him like a brick. He blinked several times, trying to grasp his bearings; the last thing he remembered was falling through that opening in the ground, or well technically the Framework’s exit, hoping desperately that he hadn’t just made a huge mistake.

 

Phil looked around the room, taking in the dim lighting, and the four others with him, but most importantly focusing on the small figure in the gurney next to his.

 

Slowly, he eased himself down from the standing gurney, pulling off the wires that were wrapped around his arm, tracking his vitals. His legs shook from days (had it only been days?) of misuse and his head throbbed a bit, but he pushed that to the back of his mind as he stepped down, feeling his bare feet against the thin carpet, and made his way to stand before her.

 

He stared up at her. Melinda’s face remained still, peaceful even, as she breathed steadily. A look at her heart rate monitor told him her vitals were within the normal range, and honestly she could’ve been sleeping.

 

“Come on, May.” He muttered. As he’d fallen through the exit, the last thing he’d seen had been her face, tight with anxiety and fear. It was hard to believe that had only been minutes ago. He remembered begging her to follow him, and her protests that it wasn’t that easy for her.

 

Would she do it? Follow someone who had been, at least a complete stranger, into a lava pit/hole in the floor? Would she believe him, because quite frankly he’d sounded like a lunatic?

 

_One, two, three…_

 

May remained unmoving, her eyes closed.

 

“You can do it! Jump!” He said. How many more seconds passed? One? Twenty? With each passing second, horrible images floated before his eyes. Nobody could last forever in the Framework before their body gave out, and Melinda had been in there for _weeks._ Was it already too late? Had Aida already shut down the Framework?

 

_Four, five, six…_

He’d thought she hadn’t been far behind. But like always, he’d been wrong. Phil couldn’t exactly blame her—May wouldn’t be May if she took such a ridiculous risk. He could feel his heart rate accelerating, could hear it throbbing in his ears as his vision grew darker, focusing only on her. Or more specifically, her still unmoving figure. It could be any moment now. Either she’d decided to join him, or her heart would abruptly stop beating, and she would be lost to him forever.

Suddenly, gloriously, he heard a gasp. He saw her eyes fly open, her head loll to the side, her legs give out beneath her as he reached out instinctively to catch her, one arm supporting her while the other untangled her from the wires as he smiled up at her, his face reflecting the relief that consumed his entire being.

 

And he could finally breathe again.

 

* * *

**Five**

 

Melinda always made flying look so easy. Even performing fancy techniques in high-pressure situations to evade capture or being blown up never caused her to sweat. Phil was, of course, not the same.

 

Flying itself seemed hard enough, especially since he’d really only taken one class at the Academy (and earned a low C). That’s why he’d always relied on Melinda. But add in a trawler in a zero gravity environment? If he managed not to kill everyone, he thought he should go back and give himself a solid A+ in that class.

 

Luckily, he’d watched Melinda fly enough times to not fail spectacularly (she would’ve mocked him forever if he had), and soon enough the trawler landed (roughly but at least in one piece) on what was left of the Earth.

 

They’d bundled up, wrapping scarves around their faces and strapping on goggles to protect themselves from the harsh air and elements, and started walking.

 

And walking, and walking, and walking.

 

At the Academy, one of his favorite activities had been his early morning jogs around campus on the weekends. He’d never been as early a riser as Melinda and probably never would, but there had been something peaceful about being up hours before the other cadets when they all preferred to sleep in after surviving another grueling week. Time had always seemed to stretch deliciously out, and he’d savored the solitude the same way some savored their first bites of their favorite foods.

 

This walk was nothing like that.

 

He cursed under his breath as he nearly tripped over yet another stone, kicking it furiously to the side. Another look at the long, seemingly endless path before him caused him to swear again, this time louder.

 

 _Right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot._ With every step, he grew closer and closer to Melinda. Fitz had assured him that she was most likely fine, and that he’d sent Enoch after her and he was more than capable. But that did nothing to assuage his whirling thoughts.

 

The last time he’d seen her, he’d left her to fight. Not just to fight, but to fight on her damaged leg against Sinara, someone formidable in her own way. She’d assured him she could handle it, but as he’d left with Deke, he’d turned back to catch one last glimpse at his partner.

 

May had always been small (in fact, her small size usually served as an advantage), but in that moment, up against the Kree warrior, she seemed even smaller than normal. More vulnerable. More human.

 

And he’d left her behind to get captured.

 

What if Fitz hadn’t spoken up in time? What if Sinara hadn’t spared her so she could fight in the arena? What if she’d made her way to the surface, only to be eaten by those giant roaches? What if she succumbed to an infection from her leg?

 

_What if, what if, what if?_

 

With every what if, Phil started walking faster and faster, putting more distance between himself and the trawler, and less distance between him and Melinda. Yet the more steps he racked up, the longer the path seemed to stretch out. How long had they been walking for? A hour? Five? It had already begun to blur together, time meaning nothing and everything.

 

“Hey.” Daisy said as she caught up to him. She placed a hand on his arm and smiled reassuringly. “She’s okay. It’s _May_ after all. She’s probably already ordering everyone around, making Enoch regret ever sending us here. Don’t worry. It’s _May._ ” She repeated.

 

Phil nodded in response, trying to plaster a neutral look on his face. Daisy was right. How many dire situations had Melinda found herself in, only to wriggle her way out?

 

But still. The sooner he could see her for himself, the better he’d feel.

* * *

  **Six**

 

Melinda stretched first her arms and then her legs. Judging by the sun that threatened to spill out around the thick curtains on the window, most of the morning had already passed. Normally her internal clock would’ve woken her up before sunrise for tai chi and training. Normally she would’ve started on her paperwork or finished a sparring session with her strike team.

 

Normally.

 

But there was nothing normal about this situation. She turned her head to the left and smiled; next to her Phil lay on his side, still dead to the world, his chest rising and falling steadily. (It took a lot of effort for Melinda to not become obsessed with counting his breaths and making sure they continued).

 

This was new.

 

She stretched again, savoring the sensation of the silky sheets against her bare legs. Daisy had done a great job finding the remote house a stone’s throw from the sparkling beach; it had come fully furnished, along with, surprisingly, volleyball nets, jet skis, and other water recreation items. Not that they’d spent much time in the water or even on the beach.

 

Melinda snuggled deeper into the covers, having absolutely no intention or desire to leave. Maybe today they’d actually make it outside. Maybe. Although despite the pleasant soreness between her legs and the way it had taken her seemingly forever to catch her breath last night, she was ready for more.

 

Away from the fast-paced, often frenetic energy of life on the base and as a SHIELD agent, time seemed to stretch out deliciously. She’d thought she’d grow bored immediately; even on vacation with Andrew not too long ago she’d found herself looking over her shoulder, unable to fully relax or grasp the concept that she could just let go and just _be._

 

But Tahiti with Phil was nothing like Hawaii. Here, the days seemed to blur into each other in a haze of his delicious home cooked meals, books they’d never had time to read before, and of course each other.

 

And it was just the way she liked it.

 


End file.
